Song | Haiku |
Artist | Slapp Happy |
Album | Casablanca Moon |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
We’re chippin’ at the moon with an old bone | |
Issa and her sister chip until the moon is gone | |
An endless row of wagons in the snow | |
Issa grabs her sister says c’mon let’s go ‘cause | |
Yeah, I think I’ll write a haiku | |
Well, you know as well as I do | |
You gotta, gott have a high IQ | |
So eat this and have a cup of tea | |
Widow lighting lamps at cock crow | |
Sengai stamps to help his blood flow | |
From his brush figures rush | |
In the middle sits a poet | |
Almost smothered, almost crushed, crying | |
"yeah, I think I'll write a haiku..." | |
(Systole, diastole | |
Dealing with the parts but | |
Feeling with the whole.) | |
Yo! | |
Han Shan's tears, small worlds | |
Resting on the spears of warlords | |
In the wood a drop of blood | |
Hits an inky pond which ripples as it should... |
We' re chippin' at the moon with an old bone | |
Issa and her sister chip until the moon is gone | |
An endless row of wagons in the snow | |
Issa grabs her sister says c' mon let' s go ' cause | |
Yeah, I think I' ll write a haiku | |
Well, you know as well as I do | |
You gotta, gott have a high IQ | |
So eat this and have a cup of tea | |
Widow lighting lamps at cock crow | |
Sengai stamps to help his blood flow | |
From his brush figures rush | |
In the middle sits a poet | |
Almost smothered, almost crushed, crying | |
" yeah, I think I' ll write a haiku..." | |
Systole, diastole | |
Dealing with the parts but | |
Feeling with the whole. | |
Yo! | |
Han Shan' s tears, small worlds | |
Resting on the spears of warlords | |
In the wood a drop of blood | |
Hits an inky pond which ripples as it should... |
We' re chippin' at the moon with an old bone | |
Issa and her sister chip until the moon is gone | |
An endless row of wagons in the snow | |
Issa grabs her sister says c' mon let' s go ' cause | |
Yeah, I think I' ll write a haiku | |
Well, you know as well as I do | |
You gotta, gott have a high IQ | |
So eat this and have a cup of tea | |
Widow lighting lamps at cock crow | |
Sengai stamps to help his blood flow | |
From his brush figures rush | |
In the middle sits a poet | |
Almost smothered, almost crushed, crying | |
" yeah, I think I' ll write a haiku..." | |
Systole, diastole | |
Dealing with the parts but | |
Feeling with the whole. | |
Yo! | |
Han Shan' s tears, small worlds | |
Resting on the spears of warlords | |
In the wood a drop of blood | |
Hits an inky pond which ripples as it should... |